


time to play your dead man's hand

by pawn_vs_player



Category: Oxenfree
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canonical Character Death, Developing Friendships, Gen, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, POV Alternating, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Past Character Death, Possession, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sibling Bonding, Step-Sibling Relationship, Stream of Consciousness, Temporary Character Death, Time Loop, Time Travel, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 04:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12314061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pawn_vs_player/pseuds/pawn_vs_player
Summary: Empty churches have more room for visitors than full ones.Jonas makes a deal with the Sunken to free his sister, but the island is rather unwilling to part with its toys.((Main and chapter titles from "Bury Them Deep" by Ghoultown.))





	1. lay your body down on the sand

**Author's Note:**

> i,,,,, really like this game,,, and i wanted alex to not be the one suffering for once,, so,,,, here we are my dudes  
> fyi, michael's here bc i said so and bc i think jonas should get to know michael and bc michael deserves to be more of a character  
> i hope you enjoy this dumb idea my dudes

_The sky splits open, sea-green and blood-red, and there are thousands of looming shadows in the rift, glowing eyes and nothing else to mark them as something that used to be alive, and Alex's long teal hair is whipping across her face even though they're holding her at the bottom of the ocean to watch a submarine crash, and Clarissa is scarlet and shaking, blood dripping down the side of her mouth and her eyes shining stoplights, and you can almost see the shadows caging themselves inside her bones._

_Let her go! Alex demands, radio sparking in her hands, jacket a beacon in the swirl of dead shadows and remembered water._

_An - exch - ange, the ghosts demand, and you can see Alex gearing herself up for the yes, the radio shuddering, the dial spinning wildly, the screech of static swallowed up by the dark green waves and the hungry eyes of the dead._

_You can see Alex preparing to throw herself to the wolves to save the life of a girl who hates her._

_You've only known Alex for a night, one night of terror and confusion, but you cannot let her do this._

~~_No,_~~ _you scream from the other side of the rift, seeing the spotlight eyes of the ghosts turn to face you on the other side of their torn-up reality._ ~~_No. Not her. Use me._~~

_They look at you, ignoring Alex as she takes advantage of their distraction to battle the waves and get to Clarissa._

_Yo - u ? Emp - tyy-y-y-y-y boy._

_The radio shrieks._

_She-sh-sHEEe-e-e-e has fi-fight a-a-and pow-ow-power. WhAT can y-y-OU offer?_

_You stare at them, helpless. You have nothing to offer but yourself, and you know that's a paltry replacement for Alex - Alex, who you met today, but who already outshines everyone else on this island._

_~~Please~~ , you say, because there is nothing else to be said.  ~~Please, let her go~~._

_Le-let g - oOO-o-o?_

~~_Use me_ ~~ _~~instead~~ , you plead.  ~~She deserves better.~~_

_GoO - oo -O-O-o. The word stretches, underlined with the scratching static of Alex's radio and Clarissa's sobs, hidden in Alex's shoulder. Go - o? Is - leaAAVe - po-oooss-poSSIble-le-le?_

_You stare back, silent. You don't know what to say._

_BraAve boY, whispers the rift. EmPty-y-y boy._

_The rift shakes. Clarissa's head rises, red dripping from her brown eyes._

_She sees you._

_~~Leave them alone. Please.~~  
_

_You feel the static humming in the gaps between your bones. The hiss of the ghosts thinking buzzes behind your eyes._

_Alex turns from behind the rift, ponytail a stripe of teal against the crimson of her jacket and Clarissa's hair and the ghosts' ravenous stare._

_She sees you. Her eyes flicker brown-crimson-white-black-gray, red irises and static pupils._

~~_No! Let them_ _go!_ ~~

_EmPP-ty-Y-YY-y-yy as a chURcH, the shadows murmur._

_You see Alex's mouth shape your name. The ocean in the rift swallows up her voice._

_B rAA v e, says a shadow, scarlet streetlamp eyes sliding through the rift to inspect you. L e E a-a-a-ve?_

_Alex is screaming at you, completely silent._

_You feel water splashing in your ribs. Static screeches in your ears. Everything in you tells you to run._

_You step forward instead, reaching for the rift. ~~Come on, then! What are you waiting for?~~_

_You can see the disbelief on Alex's face. Apparently she thought you had a self-preservation instinct._

_Stu-u-u-tupid boy, the rift sighs. But br-b-brAA-A-a-a-a-ve, the rift argues._

_trYY, the radio decides._

_The world turns red, and then it flips over, and then it disappears._


	2. i say goodbye -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old player joins the party. Alex has a panic attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait my dudes ;n; depression hit me like a fucking train and it was all i could do to fucking,, not go outside and sleep in the snow (haha i say 'sleep' like i don't mean 'get hypothermia and die' haha)

Leaning over the ferry railing with her eyes closed, all Alex can smell or hear is the ocean. It calms her in a way nothing else does - nothing else  _has,_ since - 

She pulls Michael's jacket tighter around her thin shoulders. It's too big for her. 

God, Ren better have some damn good brownies to make this trip worth it. She doesn't think she'll make it through another night of this sober.

The metal stairs creak behind her, loud under someone's sneakers. She doesn't want to turn around. She knows what she'll see if she does.

She squeezes her eyes shut. 

A hand comes down on her shoulder. A chuckle rumbles near her ear.

"C'mon, Alex, give it back. I'll get cold."

The air catches in her chest. She spins, dislodging the hand.

_Michael._

Alex can't speak. The metal floor of the ferry is shifting under her feet. 

Her brother is squinting at her with concerned eyes. "Alex?"

He reaches for her again. She presses back against the railing. 

He's not real, he can't be real. He's never real.

But he touched her. She felt it. 

But he's  _not real._  

But he's here.

_But he's d e a d ._

"Stop it," she chokes, looking around. Somewhere, surely, will be those stoplight-glow eyes and static-screech voices. They're here to taunt her with the ghost of her brother. As soon as she reaches back, they'll take him away again, she knows it. 

st-tOoOoOO-oPpp?

There - the static-screech. Alex closes her eyes, sinks down the railing to curl into a ball with her hands over her ears.

"Stop it! Just - stop it! Stop teasing me!"

"Alex?"

It's him, it's him, it's him,  _it can't be him._

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The ferry rocks. Seawater is sloshing around in Alex's skull.

"Alex!"

Hands come down on her shoulders. Warm. Steady.

"Alex, c'mon, look at me-"

_Stop it, stop it, stop it, leave me a l o n e , stop bringing him back just to take him again!_

The hands disappear.

The ferry is still.

The water drains from her lungs. Salt and iron mix on her tongue. Static buzzes in her ears.

s̗̗̩̱̰ͅͅh̢͚͡͠e͕̣.̧͖̙̩ ̷̼̘ͅs͓̻͕̖͝͝a͉̱i҉̥̺͕̟͖̞d͈̤͎̻͎̭̤͖̮.̷̲͍͓̳͙ ͕̭̝̝̗͜s̝̺̝̬̘̗̯Ţ̷̭͈̺̠̟̕o̶͇̱P̵̛̩̯͍.̵̦̦̹  
.̧҉͙̳̯̦̙͔̺͞ͅ

That's not the Sunken.

Alex looks up. (She always looks, in the end - always confronts, in the end. Fear has never paralyzed her.)

It's her brother, again. The sometimes-brother. Her shadow on the island, when she lets him be. Jonas.

His eyes are red lamps. 

"Leave him alone," she whispers. Her throat aches, scraped raw. She's so tired.

i̮̖͎t̢̰͚̺̺̗̦'̫͕̺̹̤̼̮͚̲s̹͉͘͠ ̕͏̸͇̙̲̗̠̜͎o̘̬̼͎̜͚͘͠ͅk̜͜a̸͈̫̱̥̘͔͟ͅy̷̨̱̝̠̦,̛̞̱̥͚̝̹he says, the liar. t̨̺͓̹͠h̡͈̣͇͟͠e̗y̷̺͈͙̘̳͉̟̞ ̨̣̺̬̝̺̘̱̣̝w̧̡̹̻͠o̥̹̳̤͔̣̮̗ņ̛̼͍̼̮͓̘ͅ'̛̺̫̤͍͝t̞͉͖̳̜̥̱̻͟ ̫̠̼̲͈̕͠ͅb̴̰̣̗̯̱̫̦̘͉̕͜o̸̲̯t̜͉̟͕̩̼̕h̯̩̙͉͓̳̮e̷͏͕͈̹̣̗̟̣r͏͎̼̞̹̠͓͍̯ ̗͍̣̭͕ͅy̶̳̩̠o͢͝҉̩̩̘̻̙u̡̩͙̺̣͟ ̦̘̬̝̫̫͍a̱̼̮̰̩̰̪̤n̸͈̞̜̻̮̖͞y̧̩̜͎̦̣͖m̶̴̹̼͖̗̘̖̭͈̲o͈͖̤͇̼͘r̛̟̞̰̮͝e̵̘̪̣̗̩̜̘.̛̞͕̰̗͓͕̬͇

  
She stares at him. 

"What are you talking about?"

Jonas gives her a tight smile. Behind the press of his lips, she can see the sparks on his tongue. 

He crouches, puts a hand on her knee, smiles again. The corners of his stoplight eyes crinkle up. ͇̹̻̭͢i̯͚̰͟͝t̹̯̭͉̥̟̼̥͡'̢̠̺͔͉͖s̵̢͕͚ ̨̠̖̟o͏̧̠͖̰̱k҉̠̮̘͓̻̲͖ͅa̦̗͙̞̥̥̜͜͞y̶͇̰͇̻̦͡.̨̞͚͘ ͏͔̝͔̺̹͉y̨͙̦̗͍̭̠o̶͎̩̦̫̳̦̺͔͓u̝̹͖͠ ͙̩c̙͘͟a̦͓͈̞̺̮͘n͓͘ ͞͏̼͓̰̬̲̖͙ͅl̡̗̲͘ͅe͏̹͈̩̳̘ͅa̟̤͍̦̜̠̕v̺͔̰͕̩̮̭͟ͅe̵̡̬͇̪̱̙̠̫̻ ͇̣̝̝̰͖̼̤͡n͏̧̦̭̰̭̰̦ͅo̢̖̺̝w̢̤͡.̮͎̺̞͢

Something's wrong. Something's really, really wrong.

Alex grabs his wrist. He's so warm, not the corpse-cold he usually is when he gets possessed on the island. Another sign that this loop isn't like the others.

"What did you do, Jonas?"

Her sometimes-brother, the ghosts' favorite toy behind Clarissa, the shadow at her side through the loops - he smiles. He won't stop smiling. The red of his eyes flickers like a dying flashlight. The buzz of an un-tuned radio floats under his words. 

y͕̙̱͉̯͚̬̲͠o̵̡̞͙̺̟̜͇͠u̢̗̺̖͕̪̗̯̙͝ ̛͉͇͓̼͡ç̙̤̣a̗̟͚͔͢n̹̖͖̞͚͙ ̨̞̖̱̮͡g̴̛̬o̡͇͉͚̦̼͘ ̭̱̪̫ͅh̪̖̼̼͝͡o̫̮̜̲͇͎̘m̷̜̗̭̱̟̰e̶̝͍̟͍̬̖͠.̶̹̠͎̙͉͎͘ ̧̤̺͕̖̥̰̩̲͍̕̕t̼̲̙̱͞͝ͅh̟͓e̠̳̙̪͖̻͔y̸̶̱͕̲̗͟ ̹̝̞̼͚̺͞g̰̺̭͈̬͘͝a̰̳̣̪v̱̯̪̺̙̠̪͘e͔̮̘͘ ̷͚̺̰͓̗͎̖̣h̷̵̟͚͍͉̳̗̠͇͙į̦̩̤̫͔̭͖͘͟m͏̧͎͈̹ ̡͉͖͇b͎̟̠̳a̵̺͓̞̯̬̰̻͚͟͡c̮ͅk̛̙̪̙̝ͅ.̡͎͈̰ ̷̴̜͓̯̹͇̦͞i͏̱̩̫͙̲̫̪t̵͎̻̼̹̦̙̱͕̣'͏̰̳͞s̵͈͍̭̕ ҉҉̮̳̰̝͙̙̗o̱̬̮̦̺̙̪̣̟k͇̤͔͍̜͠a̧̡̢͇̹̭̖̖̰͎̲͈y̗̤̤̥͖̮͉̠.̸͉̲̠̥̣̲͘͜ ̸̸̨̘͖̣̼i̯̙̤̕͡t̛͇͖̪̠'̧̩ḻ͕̗̤͈̟͉̺͜͟ͅl̯̤͖͓͚̮͈̞͡ ̰̬̳̙a̤̠͚͎l͔͈̮̳̥͙͠l̶̶̪̼̠͔̲͇͠ ̩͕̗̞͎̣͙̗̦b͏̸̼͔͙̹̘͜e͓̭̪̺̜̗ ̰͍͓̘̝̳̖͢o̦͚̞̥̯̘͓͘͜k̡͍̱͈̦̯̜̦a̲̯͘͡y̸̯̼͚̱͚̦͜.̶̻͚̖͙̳͟

  
He tugs at the end of her ponytail. The smirk he wore when he picked a lock for her replaces his smile. It's almost a relief. She's seen him smirk plenty; that soft, relieved smile she's only ever seen once. 

(Once. The only time she told him to listen to the music. The only time she said, "Yeah, I think that's your mom."

There is no music now. There is only Alex, in her dead brother's jacket, watching her sometimes-brother break the monotony of the loops by getting possessed before even getting to the island.)

l̨̖̤̝̪̝͔͈̙͞e͚̘̹̮̗͘t̴͓͘ ҉̰̳̯̬̠̹̩s̷̭̝̰̭̳͉̱͡ǫ͍͠ͅm̱͔̲̰͖͚͜e̩̟̗̤̩̺̠̣͘͝o̦͘ņ̡͕̰̠̦̖͙e͏͏̺͔͔̣͖͈͔ ̨̺̬̬͍͘e̝l̷͓̝̭̩̭͙̲̙͉s̜̹͍̰̕e̩̭͍̠ ̴҉̜h͏̵͙̤̲̲͉̗̼̣a̡̬͖̹̘̹̣̞ͅv̱̹̥͚͎̲̩̱e̢̢̹̲̮̺̱͞ ̮̪̙̹a̷̷̛͚ ̷̨̘̙̖̘̠t̡͇͔̼͕̫̺͇͕͘u̵̡̺̙̮̱r̸͖̻̬̝͘n̼̭̠̖͚̟̠͖ ̡̨̟̰͖̘̲̬͔̝w͍̞̫͕i̶͔̺̺̠͓̫̕͜ţ͕̮̭̝̫̫̕h̺͘͞͞ͅͅ ̺͙̦̺̳̭̪t͍̦̬̗h̻̹̖̪̺e̡̩̮̜̗̦̲͚ ͚̙͠ͅg̰͔̭̘̬̤̫̝̤͞h̶̛͉͇̟͖̥̖o̧̙̺̥͕̩̹͠s̲̮͕͖̪͠ţ̴̪s̨̥̖͎͠ͅ,̠̼̻ ̫̥͎̳̙̕͝o̲͎͖̼̲̞̹k̛̤̩̪̞̜͕̪͕̣ḁ̯y̴̞?̷̛̫͉͍̼̖̲̻͜ He tucks the end of her ponytail into the collar of the jacket. '̸̤̫̳͍͍͝ş̴̳̮̪̫̦͟ ̷̴̵̳̭n͢͏̦̥͍̻̲ͅo̧͓͚͚̼͉͢t͏̼̗ ̸̨̼̠̪̖̗̱̼̙f͎̹̝̯͙̩͉̘̕a̬̩̼͝i͕̪͜r̩̠ ̞̤̪̙͎̺͜͡i̢̮͎͉͖̲̲̩͈͟f̢̻͍͈͇̙͇͟͠ ̷̟͖͙͖ͅy̙̣̼͖͞o̲̲͉̗u҉̱͙͕̭͜ ̯̱̘̖͙̗ͅḳ̶̘͉̹̥̞͓̙͖͝e͉̥̭̟̩͝e͖̫̣͎̲͖̺p̢̛̞͍̭͎̥̣ ͏̶͙͓̬̳͞t͖̖̖͖̥͓̪ẖ̴̡e̶͍̜̲̕m̨̧̗̠͎͘ ̹͍̺̰̗͓̬͞t̨͓̥̣͖̝̗̩͈͝o͇̺͡ ̢̝̼͉̭̣y͕̜̖̱̭̘̩͡͠o̵̳̺u̸̠̖̘̤̗̼̥͡r̨̻̦̗̱̳͉s̡̪͕̻̼̥͘e̢҉̖̦̟̻͟l͙̠͚̝͠͞f̢̼̝̝͉̲̰͍͜͢ ̡̫̰a̴̭̱̪l̸͕̯̰̫̯ͅͅl̴̛̜̙̘̪̬̲͈ ̴̝̜̜̙̙̟̜͡ţ̸͖̻̟̭̖͖̗ḥ̨̩͖͙̟̩̦e̗̭͓͟͝ ̮͈̫̬̥̜͚͡t̼͙̩͎͇̞̘i̯͙͝m̮̹̣͎̝̮͔͕͞e͚̰̩͘,̗̥̹͍͍̟͈ ̧̳̭̻̟͉̹͓͘ỵ͖'̴̠͇͎̘̯̦̝͈͔ḵ͓̹̳̩̠̩̞͢͢n̷̦̯͓͇͕͖͢o҉̧͍̟̥͖͖͝w͏̥̼͔̠̭͟.̶̧̧̰͍̗̦  


Jonas, but not Jonas, but maybe Jonas, gets to his feet. The necklace he always wears has slipped free of his shirt collar. The ring glitters on his chest. 

y̢͓̮̗̤͍̯̱͢'͎͉̜͔̜k̼͈̮n̼̗o̭̙̩̺̩͡w͕̺̙͜͝,҉̠̙̗̝, he says, somewhere between quietly sheepish and bitterly determined, į̥̦̞̼̙ ̜̥̦̘k̰͉̘̝̤̻͎̥i͏̖̙͙̥͖n̥͕̹͜͡d̨̼̥͇̪͙͞a̷̬̭̭̻͡ ̼̟͞h̵̹͖̖͕̬o̬̩̘̮p̜̣̻e͏̙ ̴̨̻̪͠i̺͉ ̸̖̰̝͞ṋ̴̤͈͉̼͈̥͕͜e̞̩̻̟̘̙v̝͉̳̮͖͇e͇̩̠̮͓͟r͏̧͏͓̦̙̪ͅ ̲̼͈̩̗͍s̯͔͈̯͓̮̙̯͕͜e̡͇̖͟ḙ̵̷̩̞̟͘ ̨̜͉̠̣̖̹͚̕y̷̸̯̥̗̯̦̖̘͜o҉̰͓̠̯͍̼̣͇̳͟u̘̙̻̟̮͙̘͔͢͝ ̘̺̳͜a͝҉̢̮͍̣̞̮̗̭ͅg̢̯̗̖͖͙͎͍͔a̜̝̠͉͓͙̕i̡͓̗̞̲͚n̸̤͎͔̭͖͟.̰͓̠̱̗̯̕͜  


The sky tears open over his head, even though Alex's radio is untouched in her pocket.

She reaches for him.

She touches his leg. It feels like she's jammed her hand into a live socket. Her fingers go right through him.

"What the  _fuck_ did you  _do,_ Jonas?!"

She's scrambling to her feet, clinging to the railing for leverage. The triangle glimmers and quivers behind his head like a demented halo.

b̬̝̩̘ͫ͜y͎̣͍͓̺̮ͮ͞e͕̤͔̪̥̪̱ͪ̃̇ͣ̈ͅ,̶͉̥̣͇̳̦̐̎̓ͮͪ̕ ̷̟͚̙͙̰̞̯̤̓̓̒ḁ̲͛ͦ̈́̃̎̿ͣͩl̸̼̜̻͉͉̓͜e͆̂ͬ̊ͭͦ͠҉͈̲̪̲̩̙̬x̻̖̲͕̼ͪ́͑̂ͧ̃̕͡.̴͔̼̣̾̓͌̆̋̅ͭ̽̄

The rift widens, widens -  _tears._ The sky is green and scarlet, and then it's smothered by the Sunken. 

stro-o-OOng gi-gi-irlll, they croon, wrapping around Jonas. eMPpt-t-t-yyyYy bo-o-oyy-y.

Alex can't see Jonas through the cloud of ghosts. Her voice is dead in her throat. 

Static crackles along the ferry floor. Sparks fly against Alex's sneakers.

Ope-e-e-een bo-o-oy.

Alex screams.


	3. - but it don't mean much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the moment we are born, we begin to die. It's all a matter of time.   
> So, in a place where the world is restricted to a single night - who's to say that other things from other times can't get pulled through the rifts?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Day Two of Adrian's Daily Exam Week Updates!  
> (the chapter is the second half of last chapter's lyrics, btw)
> 
> I know Jonas seems pretty OP right now, but worry not, he won't stay like this. The power he has right now comes for a price, one that is not going to be pleasant to pay.   
> I hope you enjoy suffering :)

_You miss your bed._

_That's stupid, you know it is. Out of everything the island's taken from you, your bed shouldn't be top priority._

_It's less that you miss your bed and more that you miss sleep. More that you miss curling up in a safe, warm place and just... shutting off for a while._

_(You wonder how Alex hadn't snapped.)_

_(Then you wonder if she has.)_

_((You wonder how much you can really save her from.))_

* * *

He's dead.

He's dead, okay, that's just - a fact. He drowned, he died, he is dead.  _Facts._

Except for how he's not, exactly. 

Of course Alex went and did something stupid without him. Of course she decided to be a hero about it, too, because that's his little sister - stupidly brave and painfully loyal and absurdly self-sacrificing. 

Of course she did. 

So now he's dead, except for how sometimes he - isn't, for a little while. For a little while, when the ghosts drag him back with their drowned-cold hands and put him down at Alex's side, and then he forgets that this isn't real. 

It always feels so real.

 

(He thinks that maybe it is real, somewhere, sometime. That all of this is real, every single night on Edwards Island, and maybe they all lead somewhere. Maybe there are hundreds or thousands of Alexes out there in the timestream, Alexes who got off the island and took her friends with her or maybe didn't, Alexes who picked Jonas or maybe Michael, Alexes who got out.)

(He thinks maybe it's worse if it's real, because that means the Alex who brings him back again and again is splitting apart, losing herself in loop after loop, the only one who doesn't get to escape.)

 

This time, when the rift opens, the ghosts are chattering to each other. That means Alex changed the last loop. Something was different, something was  _new_ , even though she's still taking Michael back in the end. 

(He wonders which kid was the sacrifice this time. He can't remember if there is anyone she hasn't traded for him at least once. Nona, maybe?)

(He knows that most often, it's Clarissa.)

gO, they say, pulling at his soaked clothes, fingers drifting toward his stringy-wet hair. theRe is a ne-eeEe-wWW gaAAme t-t-t-o plaayy. 

He can't ask them what they're talking about. He's dead. There is no air in his lungs to form words.

The ghosts are laughing. He is afraid. 

fuN, they sing. fuUn f-f-f-uuun fun fun fUn FUN F-F-UUUN fuN FUN!

Their laughter is the sound of static and nails on a chalkboard. If he wasn't dead, his ears might be bleeding. 

The rift stretches apart below him, endless green. 

(He's thankful for the green and blue of the deep ocean. The bottom of the lake was murky brown.)

He can see someone waiting for him on the other side, a streak of red against the green of the ocean floor. Alex, or Clarissa?

The ghosts open their hands. go! they yell, laughing as he drops. go, gO, g-ooo-oo! pLAy-y-ay!

 

It's not Alex or Clarissa who stops his fall by their presence alone, anchoring the timestream under their feet.

It's the boy who replaced him.

He is holding Alex's jacket.

_Michael's_ jacket. 

s͏̛̪̯̭̙̩͖̦͙̻͝ḩ̥̪ȩ̳͡-̴̨̠̖̪̮̹̦̭̫e̩̜̩̜̲-͚̣e̡͕͇̳̻̰͙͞ͅe͏͓͈̤ͅ'̴̨̘̦̖̪̪̳̙͟s̱̼̭͎̩̮͘͝ͅ ̢̠̰͚̬͎͇̪̥w̙̭̲͍̰͎̯͢ͅa̝̼̤-̟̖a̬̬̱͡i̛̗̟͎̠̖̦̘͖-̧͍̺͚̰̲͇͉͙̥a̞̩͔i̞͈t͏̣͍̩̗̳i̵͎̲n̡̩͙͝ͅg̮̮̙̰̤̹̱̭̟͝.̴̜̻͓̱̞, he says, voice strange and buzzing, and pushes the red bundle toward him. 

  
It smells like salt and smoke when he breathes in. He's not dead anymore, even though he's floating underneath hundreds of feet of water. (He feels the air going sour in his lungs.) 

g̟͇̟̣̭͔̫̺̼o҉̢̤͇̣̲̰̱-̷̡̮͉͔͔̪̘̫o͠͏̣̻͕̥͎̖̜͎ͅ-̳̥̘͡ͅͅǫ͎͎̗̫̟̳͕o͚͖̝̣̦͎͟͞ͅ ̯̯͇̞̫̞͜͠ͅH̯̗̹̻̖͢-̵̮h̴̺̺͖̠̥͠-̘̣̲̞͟o̜̮̳͕̩͕͈̠m͙͓̝͕̪e̼͜.̴̙͍͉͖̖̥̻  
  


The boy's beanie is slouched low over his forehead. The sharp glow of his eyes is still visible. His hands fuzz in and out like the sound of a faulty radio connection. 

Wait, he wants to say. Wait, this isn't supposed to happen. Even when she chooses me, you're still there. This isn't how it's supposed to go.

Those stoplight eyes meet his, cold and distant. Still, when the boy reaches out to touch his shoulder, his hands - static and inconsistent as they are - are warm.

s̭̦̬̠̦̫̻̰̼̕͘͞h̵̥͉̦̼e҉̬͓̬̼͉̩ ̶̼̥͢ͅṉ̡̲̜̼͜-̕͏̭͔̖̮ṇ̭̜̜̘ͅe̷̷̛̜̼e̸̪̗-̹̲͇͎e̸̶̡͕̲̹̪̻ͅḛ̻͚͇̱̺̤̪̦͟-̞̞̰̪̟͇̪̺̕e̦̜͍̕ͅd͏̞̺̖̪̜͞s̷̶̞̱ ̛̺̫y̴̩͎o̡͍̬͇O͚͓̝̝̙̗͈u̠͉̫̪͉͡u̸͖͇͎̩̪͕͢͟.̨̲͓̠͟ ̻͞͡t̗-̨͔̲̥͓̫̻̠͝t͈͍̟͔͙͍̟a̵̜̹͞-͏̺̥̣͈t̷̙̯a̢̩͇̱̠̼͈͟ͅk̘̪̗͚e͉̺ ̺͎͚̝h̨̡̖̮̥͔̮̬̮̳̰e҉̸̩͚͈̖r̢͔͘ ̴͙̬̞̘͝h̲̻̳̼̟̪̹ͅO҉̭̞̰͎͇̫̩͍ơ̪̯͚͘͟-҉̶͚̠̪̪̙̗o̵̗̞͢͢m̵̶̧͎͕̰̲͖̘m̜̣͈̪͘m͎̰͖̣͘m͙͉̳̦̹̝e͈͉.͔̖͞ ҉̷̻͓̬̱̭̺̦͜m̴̸͕̞̹̪̣̘̕a̞͎̲̙̤̘͜-̕͏̵̞a̱̥̻͖͜͢͠k̵̗̩̩̠͉̫̳̪̘͡ę̷̜̲̤̲͞ͅ ̬̘̱̖̜̩̪t̨̻̕h͏̨̤͜-͟͏̜͈̣̫͢t̨͈̖̭͠h̵͢͏̪̹e̢̫̟̖̙͜͡-҉̢̞̬̦̹̝͓͎ͅe͔̻̭̤m̧͏̟̱̘̟̪ ̲̕s̲̥̻̰̹͖͉̼͟a̝͙̫̺̮̖͎̺A̵̹̥͙̖͖̦A͎͙̟͢ͅf̸̢̪͖͔͉̬̲̜ͅe̷̗͙̩̳͜.̮̯̼

  
The rift gapes wide like an open wound, disrupting the shifting sands on the ocean floor. The green ripples and fades. He sees blue on the other side - a blue sky, wide and endless, and blue waves, gentle and untrustworthy.

And Alex. Alex, standing on the one-route ferry to Edwards Island. 

Her hair is brown. 

g̹̣͙̫O̡͍͖̗͙͓̜̜̗͜ ̢͕͔͚̩̲̯̟ẖ̵̖̲͇̯o͖̤̤̙̭̼̭͘͜ơ̴̛̮̝-҉̬̖̙̺̮o͏̼̹͕̫̰̤̪m̷̸͚͈e̥̫͉͞ͅ.̶͔̰̜͕̰͟͢

 

Michael falls. 


	4. wind in my face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well hey there, new narrator. You come here often?

_You hate the sound of their voices, hissing and jumping and crackling in your ears._

_You hate your own voice more, for the screeches and skips you cannot keep out of your speech._

_You want to go home._

t̗̝̠̲̟͈̫̥̻̝̼͘Ḥ̨̡̯̳̝̮͙̜̞̖̞̻̪̺͘͡͞ͅ-̘̻̠̺͜͢͝t͟͏̻̯̥̯̹̕͝h̵̷̢̛̩̥̪̪̲͉̜̪͔͍ͅ-̡͍̗͖̙͎͖̗͎̗͖̪̫͍͢ţ̴̣̟̖͙̻̪͜͟ḩ̴̟̝̮̲̻̟͔̝̮͜ͅi̢͕̗̣̯̣̬̝̲̞͚͡ş̷͇̰͙̖̺̰̺̻͚̕͜͝ ̶̴̛̛̠̼͕̞̰̖̝̕ͅͅi̶̶̵̦̱̝͕̼̫̫̘̼͡s̤͔̥͔̦̫͔̝͙̩̪̗̣̫̫̕͝ͅͅs̵̳̪̺̲̯̪̠̮̥̕͟͜͞s̛͙̟̮͇̱̖̭̻̼̙̲̹̙̩̦͢͠s̷̬̣̦͈̼̺͎͕͢s̶̡̛̛̼̜̮͍̩͎͚͎̯-̵̛̯̺̻̟͕̜̤̖͘s̶͈̭͖͇̰͉̮͔̰̯̭͓̭̯͚̪̳̕͢s̷͞҉̰̮͚̤͉͖̲̠̣͙̺̯̟̙̼͓͚̘ͅ ̸̙͎̦̮̝͉̜̖̜̣̹̬̰̕ͅḩ҉̤̙̺̞̯̻͡o҉̸̴̻̳̻͕̱̺̘̩̘̬̻̜̲͙O̶̪̥͈̖̼̼̞͇̹̹̘̣͍͓͘͘͠O̴̗͕͈̲̘̫̱̭-͡҉̸͕̮͕͙̝̦͎͢o̵̵̢̨҉̗̲͕̙͍̜̜m҉̢̰̤̤̟͈͉̙̗͇̼̬͚̯̟͝ę͔̹̫̫͡ ̶͘̕͡͏̺̟̼̹̖̩̩̼̥̝̭n͝҉̴̠͚̜̜̭̣̟̯͉̖̻̼̝̖͎̪̲-̨̟͔͎̙͕̖̪͙n̴̶̡̠͕͇͈̮͝o҉̴͖̺̥͚̖͙̦̤̭̮̝͎̯̤͟ͅw҉̶̧̱͈̩̖̮̫̩͈̝̦̠̖̗-̵̧̼̝̰̖̳͇̝̲w͖͇͇̞͚̖͎̭͙̝̻̖̼̼̫̤͚̠̕͢-̷̨̪̘̳͍̱͉͙̯͍͡w͝͏̳͔̭̪̥͕̺-̴̢͜͞͏͚̺̠͍̥̖̝͕̹w̷̶̳̝̩͎̼͈̰̥͜͠.̴̢̳̭͕͚͉̜̳͟

* * *

 

(Something is wrong.)

(Something is very wrong.)

 

So Alex is late to the party.

Honestly, Ren wasn't expecting anything else. Michael's the only reason she gets to school on time (by dragging her out of the bed) and he'll be gone soon  ~~~~ ~~no he's gone already he died~~  for college, or maybe with Clarissa according to the rumor mill, though Alex can't be happy if the latter is true. Anyway, she's late. (Ren will probably have to take over for Michael when he leaves, won't he?  ~~He tried and failed he's as bad in the mornings as Alex~~ He doesn't think he'll do a great job, he needs a coffee - maybe a brownie - to make it out of bed every morning and he's usually late to first period anyway, but he could try.) She's late by like, half an hour! And look, he wouldn't be complaining, he's used to Alex  _literally never being on time_ unless Michael was watching the clock, but it's  _fucking cold here_ on this island, he can't leave the shore because he might miss Alex and then she might just go right back to the mainland and the party won't happen! But the wind is kinda strong out here and it's really. fucking. cold. Ugh.

At least usually when Alex is late for something, Ren is either late too, or he's too high to care. He couldn't eat on the ferry, though - wouldn't do to be high before the main event and Alex doesn't like it when he does pot without her - and he caught an early ferry out. (He was being sappy and wanted to see if the sunset would look different on a boat. The only difference was that there was a glare off the water and he couldn't fucking see the sunset because he was blinded by its reflection. Teach him to appreciate nature, jeez.)

He's starting to consider eating one of the aforementioned brownies just to break up the boredom when the ferry  _finally_ docks. He's practically bouncing. _Come on, Alex, I'm bored, get down here so we can go hang out on the beach and play Truth or Slap and be dumb teenagers together!_

He scans the docks, waiting for her. It's the last one out to Edwards Island, so there can't be many more passengers than Alex herself.

(something is wrong)

Somehow, he doesn't see her until she calls his name. When he turns, smile already wide, hand already raised for a greeting wave - 

He doesn't recognize her for a second.

For a frozen moment, Ren does not recognize his best friend. 

She has brown hair  ~~it's supposed to be teal~~ she's wearing her "Oh The Hue-Manatee" pun shirt  ~~she's barely taken Michael's jacket off since he died where is it~~ her jeans have holes in the knees ~~~~~~her mom replaced her wardrobe after the funeral because Alex basically destroyed every item Michael had bought for her~~ and her sneakers are bright purple  ~~Ren held her hand as she burned them because those were the ones she wore to the lake that day~~.

Then the moment passes.

"Alex! Better late then never, I guess!"

She hugs him, tugs his carefully-styled hair in revenge for the comment. He makes an offended noise that they both know he doesn't mean. 

"I tried, Ren, but she was really stubborn about her beauty naps."

~~what~~

~~no~~

~~impossible~~

~~he's dead~~

~~w h a t~~

(something is really, really fucking wrong)

"Is that supposed to be news?" Ren grins, ducking away from Alex's noogie. "I'm the one who has to wake her up for fifth period!"

He yelps, dodging Alex's next swing, and starts backpedalling up the hill. "Alex, c'mon!"

"You must pay for your slander!" she yells, laughing a little. Michael's grinning fondly as he sneaks up behind her. "MICHAEL! NO, GET OFF!" she shrieks as he scoops her up and tickles her mercilessly. 

"Hah! Get her!" Ren yells, giggling. "I knew you were on my side!"

Alex's wriggling has Michael's jacket tugged halfway off one shoulder, the left sleeve shoved up in a rumpled mess.  ~~She wore it like that, when he met her at the hospital, sleeves shoved up because it was too big for her, her right shoulder bare because she'd fallen asleep and couldn't keep tugging it back into place.~~  He doesn't seem to mind.

Finally, he sets her down. "I heard there was a party," he says, wiggling his eyebrows at Ren. 

Ren smacks his forehead. Ugh, Alex distracts him easy enough, but when Michael is added to the mix it's a miracle Ren can focus on anything. "Yeah, shit, we're probably late already!" He grins suddenly, devilish. "Your girlfriend might get fed up and leave you behind," he teases Michael. Clarissa is fiery and unpredictable; if she thinks Michael isn't coming, she honestly might just give Nona her jacket and swim back to the mainland. 

Michael shrugs, smiling. "Guess I'll have to swim after her," he says. Alex punches his arm, but Michael is  ~~was~~ a lot sturdier than Ren; he barely even sways. 

"You sap," Alex says, disgusted tone mostly an act ~~it flipped, after the lake, Clarissa was disgusted and Alex was just... empty~~. 

"Come on!" Ren shouts, pulling at Alex's arm. He's sick of waiting! Alex can argue about Clarissa  _later_ , when there isn't a party to be had and brownies to be eaten!

"Okay, okay," Alex gives in, pushing his hand off her arm as she starts trotting up the hill. "Someone hasn't had his evening brownie, methinks."

"I was waiting," Ren admits. "So come on already!"

Alex gives him a big, exaggerated sigh, but breaks halfway through because she can't help giggling. "Alright," she laughs, winking at him. "First one to the top gets to noogie the loser!"

"Noooo!" Ren whines, speeding up. Michael just laughs at them, strolling along behind; if Alex tries to noogie him, he can just stand on his tiptoes and watch her jump around like a possessed monkey.  ~~Ren misses the days when Alex was angry; she's not angry anymore, she's only quiet and tired and hollow.~~  

(he should be happy, right, because she's better and michael is here, but something is  _wrong,_ something is really seriously terribly w r o n g )

Ren's shoe snags against the ground just as Alex is crowning the hill. "HAH!" she yells, and Ren's face bursts with pain as his nose breaks with a loud, awful  _snap._

 

_(well, that's new.)_


End file.
